the mural inside this cathedral shows: The world is blue as an orange

distorted image, malformed body, malformed fingers, ugly, malformed members

12 days ago

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SSD-1B

Guidance Scale

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luminescence show in Saint Peter's Basilica

$[fractal art: Apophysis] [zoom at the floral mosaic] the floral mosaics at Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. [art by Kevin Dean]$

$Sagrada Família Cathedral (Barcelona) [in fractales IFS with Apophysis refined in Mandelbulb 3D]$

$Subject & Action: A hyper-detailed, hallucinatory wide-angle scene inside St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City, transformed by a massive, pulsing luminescence show. A diverse, dazed multitude of visitors is gathered below, their faces tilted upward, illuminated by a psychedelic vortex of beams that refract through the central baldacchino and dome. Environment & Setting: The interior of the basilica is consumed by swirling patterns of light—fractal geometry, mandalas, and kaleidoscopic projectio$

$[fractal art: Mandelbulb 3d] [zoom at the floral mosaic] the floral mosaics at Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. [art by Kevin Dean]$

Now I see the mirrored wall stands rampart 'tween your magic realm and cold city streets without, reflecting back each blush and rivulet that dews your dancing flesh a thousandfold. Tongue yearns traction on those crystal panes, to taste each gleaming drop of nectar left in honey-sweet tribute where skin relinquished sweat unto cool glass... And ah, the ground beneath! Padded plain like mossy bed where fern and flower spreadest in glade's wild heart, softening each sinuous motion's landing. How

the mural inside this roman cathedral shows: The world is blue as an orange

$[fractal art: Mandelbulb 3d] [zoom at the floral mosaic] the floral mosaics at Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. [art by Kevin Dean]$

$Your belonging and in that your joint built your world. The last spark stiffened red as thin glass reached down. Whole the terror spilling, towers caved and stitched themselves within there. The whole symphonic descent, fractured spirit still. The will, the bludgeoning and brooding silence pulsed still and your presence of your calling remained in your thin space of skin, bit-ignorant. Ice ache. You sit still, sunk below opened prose, grinding. Tracks of decay shattering frost and hardened shado$